


the upside

by finalizer



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-13 19:08:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5713789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finalizer/pseuds/finalizer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux has more than enough on his mind, thank you very much, and if that weren't enough he suddenly has his hands full of Kylo Ren spontaneously moving in and stealing the entire right side of his bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> kylo is a giant baby, leaves home for some reason; and for lack of a better option moves in with hux because *jean-ralphio saperstein voice* technically he's homeeeeleeesss
> 
> it can only go downhill from there

_i._

_one week after Kylo Ren renounces his familial ties and sets off with a single suitcase_

Hux enters his apartment and is immediately concerned. There’s clothes scattered across the dark floorboards, a trail leading to the bedroom, crumbs here and there in a disgusting display of _Ren is here_.

Sure enough, he’s face down on Hux’s bedsheets (linen, expensive, not meant for drooling onto), his mess of a hairdo splayed around him like a greasy halo.

There’s a half open suitcase in the corner of the bedroom, its contents haphazardly spilling onto the rug and Hux wonders if a lifetime sentence for slaughtering Ren wouldn’t be an preferable alternative to having to actually put up with him.

He doesn’t bother to wonder how Ren got inside — after all, picking a lock is hardly a skill, nor is scaling up the fire escape, and so on. He focuses on what really matters, namely the warzone that had become of his apartment in the few hours Ren had undoubtedly spent there.

Hux trails empty junk food packets from the floor to atop the bed, horrified to find grease stains on the sheets. The crumbs on the pillow are the last straw.

He turns on his heel and flees the room, seething. His keys are still clutched in his hand like a lifeline, he realizes, as he doubles back to fetch Ren’s suitcase. It physically pains his delicate sensibilities to hastily toss all of Ren’s belongings back where they came from, disregarding his proper attire folding mannerisms, risking creases in each piece of clothing. But time is scarce, though Ren sleeps like a rock, unmovable and oftentimes snoring, and Hux wants him out and miles away as fast as humanly possible.

It’s a world record breaker, undeniably, how fast the suitcase is out the door, standing solemnly against the concrete wall of the hallway. Hux barely bothers to nudge the door shut before taking a few long strides across the apartment to rid his home of the last unbefitting element.

"Up you go," he snaps, roughly grabbing Ren’s shoulder, pushing him onto his back. Hux half expects him to be dead, taking into consideration the sheer amount of emptied Pringles cans strewn beside the bed.

Ren groans and it’s pathetic enough to fuel Hux’s rage to an even higher degree. "Not only is this breaking and entering, Ren, but it’s defilement, pure and simple, trashing my house. So, not only can I call the cops, but I can murder you as well."

Hux steps back to allow Ren to get out of the bed on his own, which would be preferable to physically lugging his body down the hall and out the door. Yet instead of doing so, Ren throws an arm over his face like a soap opera star and exhales loudly, with all the theatricality that comes with it.

"You’re heartless," he mutters and Hux sets his jaw. The underlying whine in Ren’s tone is already too much and it’s hardly the time of day to break out the hard liquor.

Hux chooses a different approach. "Yes, I do believe I am. Now get lost, Ren, I have work to do."

Ren doesn’t do as he’s told.

It’s hardly a surprise when Hux loses his nerve entirely and forcefully kicks Ren off the bed, sends him sprawling onto the ground in a tangle of all-too-long limbs. There’s a pained moan from the general direction of where he fell.

"You can’t crash here," Hux keeps talking before Ren can interject. "I told you that last week, I told you that yesterday, I texted you that this morning, when you asked if I changed my mind. Not only do I have one bed and no couch, but you’re a walking natural disaster and I’d really like to keep my apartment in one piece."

"We could share the bed?" Ren’s voice is hardly timid, which makes it so much more aggravating. Hux considers making the trip down to his storage unit to fetch his childhood baseball bat, knock some sense into Ren’s man-child brain.

"Get out, Kylo, before I drag you out."

Maybe it’s the poorly concealed rage in Hux’s voice, or a goddamn miracle, but Ren stands. He brushes the imaginary dust off his pants in a grand display of obedience and slowly shuffles towards the bedroom door, head bowed, as if expecting Hux to take pity on him and invite him back inside. Not happening.

"Suitcase is outside," Hux says, following behind Ren taking his proverbial walk of shame, "all packed. If I find anything else, I’ll text you. I’ll send you a bill for the dry cleaning — the carpets and the sheets. Or do I send it to your parents? How’s your financial situation at the moment?"

Hux knows he hits a nerve, and soon enough Ren is glaring down at him. It shouldn’t be intimidating but it is, and maybe just a little bit scary. Hux would never admit to the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge, so he defiantly stares back.

Ren deflates, finds the game not worth playing when his opponent isn’t as frightened as he’d like him to be. After all, it’s Hux; he’s never afraid, or he wouldn’t have invited Ren into his bed on countless occasions. Contrary to Ren’s naïve assumption, however, sex didn’t imply a relationship and spending a night in Hux’s bed every so often didn’t imply his right to move in permanently.

He’s halfway down the stairs (the elevator’s broken and Ren resists the mindless urge to kick the metal doors) when he hears quick paced footsteps echoing from above, then Hux’s voice. He sounds thoroughly pissed.

"Ren, wait."

When Ren turns, he sees Hux peering down at him from the top of the staircase, leaning over the railing. Not pissed, perhaps, more so exasperated; he’s probably a second away from actually rubbing his temples to calm himself down.

Hux pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to find the right thing to say. Ren finds himself wondering what kind of law student struggles with words, let alone sports the furthest expression from a poker face imaginable. Maybe Ren brings out the worst in him, makes him nervous — it’s a strangely comforting thought.

"Look, if you — if you really don’t have a place to crash," Hux mutters, the words slipping past his lips almost involuntarily, "you can lay low here for a while. Just — eat in the kitchen. And use hangers for your clothes. Wash your hair, maybe."

Ren tries not to feel too insulted; he’s used to it all from Hux, after all. In retaliation, he neglects a thank you.

"And don’t pick the lock again," Hux adds quickly, as Ren struggles to turn around on the staircase with his weighty suitcase in hand. "I’ll get a spare made tomorrow."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by [this art of the dark side bbs](http://machomachi.tumblr.com/post/136615069669/drew-all-the-babs-in-earth-fashion) awhhh


	2. Chapter 2

_ii._

_four days after Kylo Ren moves in with Hux_

 

Hux relays the story and Phasma hides her amused smirk behind her paper cup — hot chocolate, not coffee, because she’s trying to break the world record of being the only law student alive that doesn’t use caffeine as a motivator.

Hux opted for the window seat in the far corner of the café, because as much as Phasma loved company, he didn’t. One friend was enough — well, one friend and one _whatever Ren was_.

"There’s one thing I don’t quite get," Phasma says finally, setting the cup down onto the table. ‘I’d have thought he was already moved in. This entire time I was under the impression you’ve been living together for months and here you are telling me he’s only recently ditched his folks."

"We’re not — " Hux suddenly regrets agreeing to meet between classes, though it would’ve happened sooner or later, a run in with Phasma at the only café on campus, " — we’re not together."

"Perhaps not in the traditional sense. No flowers, chocolates, declarations of love, but you’re most certainly together."

Hux clenches and unclenches his fists under the table, balling them at his sides. A part of him wants to reach for his bag and flee the building, arrive at his next lecture thirty minutes ahead of time purely to avoid the impending conversation; mostly due to Phasma’s inexplicable fixation on his and Ren’s _not_ -relationship.

"We’re not in a relationship," he says, through gritted teeth. He’s not really mad, mostly just tired from hearing the same assumptions made over and over. At this point he doesn’t stop to think about what Phasma says, he just denies it all.

"You live in the same house."

"As of four days ago," Hux snaps.

"You sleep in the same bed."

"I only have one bed, Phasma," Hux retorts, and he curses the defensive tone slipping into his voice. "And I don’t own a sofa."

Phasma merely arches an eyebrow. Hux notes her eyeliner — pitch black and sharp enough to kill a man or two — rather impressive for someone going on three hours of sleep a night and declining caffeine altogether.

"I’m an only child," he says, in manner of explanation, "I’m used to sleeping alone. Believe me, if only I had a sofa I’d kick his ass into the living room in a heartbeat."

Phasma pushes her chair back and stands, gathering her tote bag and heading away from the table, much to Hux’s utter confusion.

She comes back moments later with a box of glazed donuts. Dropping it onto the center of the table, she motions at Hux to help himself, then sits back down herself.

Hux accepts a single donut, eyes it carefully (but not carefully enough to warrant Phasma’s concerned attention) in fear of her having laced it with some sort of truth serum. It’s preposterous, but he doesn’t put it above her to get gossip out of him the fun (read: involving illicit substances) way.

"So, he lives with you — you share a home, a bathroom, a kitchen, a _bed_ ," Phasma steamrolls on, "and you completely deny being in a relationship with him? Hell, I bet he even steals your covers at night."

Hux wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, having taken a tentative first bite of his donut. "I’d like to see him try and take my covers. He’d be six feet under before he even woke up."

There’s a moment of silence following Hux’s murderous confession (one of many when Kylo Ren was the topic of any conversation), and Phasma stares at him contemplatively. Hux suddenly feels like he’s being psychoanalyzed. He’s stressed enough to promise to treat himself to a cigarette on his way across campus later, no doubt.

"But you do admit you find him attractive?" she asks finally, and Hux thinks that if he’d had a drink, he’d have spat it out.

Instead, he tries very hard not to choke on his donut. "What kind of question is that?"

"One that you’re evidently avoiding."

Hux hates her sharp wit — or his own naiveté; how unbecoming of a soon to be prosecutor. He hisses a drawn out sigh through his teeth and tilts his head. "So what if I do? _You_ think your criminology professor's attractive, doesn’t mean you’re dating."

Her grin is sharp and victorious. "First step to any crush is admitting it to yourself."

"Crush? What are you, six?"

"Hux, have mercy on my fragile patience," Phasma snaps, her demeanor shifting into a harsher stance. She nudges the donut box towards him, offering him another, and Hux begins to worry that the drugged donuts theory might not have been too far off to begin with. "You’ve fucked the guy — however many times already, and now he’s all moved in, and you’re telling me there’s _nothing_ between you two?"

This time Hux does choke on what he’s eating, the powdered sugar from his donut suddenly cutting off his air flow. He doubles over and coughs for long enough for everyone in the café to shoot a concerned glance in his direction.

"How do you know about that?" he finally wheezes out, straightening up and trying his damnest to regain the smallest bit of composure.

"Who _doesn’t_ know about that?"

" _No one knows_ ," Hux hisses.

 _"I_ know."

There’s a million and one scenarios running through Hux’s overly analytical brain and despite it all he cannot fathom how Phasma could have gained access to his most highly guarded secret. He supposes Ren may have let something slip, not that Ren spent any amount of alone time with Phasma. Then again, there seemed to be an increasing amount of things Hux didn’t know about those he thought were closest to him.

He breaks the suffocating silence with a defensive snap, "Just because I get into bed with someone doesn’t mean you can sound the wedding bells."

"Now, let’s not get carried away, Hux. No one’s telling you to get married — career first, long-time marital commitments later," she pauses, and her voice is too soft for comfort when she speaks again. "I’m just suggesting that there might be something more than an occasional hard on involved."

It’s not even the most worrying part, that Phasma would suggest such a thing. Hux’s fingers still on his own paper cup and he thinks, as a cold dread washes over him, that he hadn’t even considered feelings to be an option.

He thinks back on Ren, the human disaster, napping with his head plastered onto the kitchen counter just last night and immediately dismisses Phasma’s implication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by [this art of the dark side bbs](http://machomachi.tumblr.com/post/136615069669/drew-all-the-babs-in-earth-fashion) awhhh


	3. Chapter 3

_iii._

_two months after Hux’s enlightening conversation with Phasma; for inexplicable reasons Kylo Ren is still living in Hux’s apartment_

 

Hux arrives back home only to be met with the sight of Ren stretched across the very center of the bed with two boxes of Poptarts in his lap, a questionable documentary blaring from his laptop speakers — Hux’s laptop, to be precise.

"Have you, I don’t know," Hux starts, faux casually leaning against the doorframe, "considered getting a job?"

It takes a few moments for Ren to stop ignoring the question. He eventually hits the space key with more force than necessary, pausing the show to give Hux his full and undivided attention.

"When’s the last time you went outside?" Hux demands.

Following a pause, during which Ren undoubtedly meticulously crafts an elaborate lie, he answers with a bland, "Sometime this week."

"Ok, so certainly not this week," Hux translates.

Ren says nothing, dropping his gaze back down to the laptop screen. His fingers wrap into the corner of his t-shirt — a nervous habit, toying with whatever’s handy to keep his hands from shaking, betraying his fragile state.

Hux almost feels bad for confronting him. _Almost_.

"Look, Ren, I don’t know what beef you have with your parents; I don’t know what went down and frankly I don’t want to. But you’ve been here for months, and I’m way past wondering what you do all day — at this point I just want it to stop."

Ren balls his hands into fists, then in one swift movement sits up straight and slams the laptop shut. It doesn’t even register in his mind that it’s not his own computer, and _hey_ , technology is fragile. It’s a sign, as Hux well knows, that Ren is speeding straight towards his breaking point.

"You seem a little on edge," Ren finally snaps.

"You seem awfully defensive."

"I’m under fire here, aren’t I? ‘Course I’m being defensive."

Hux pushes off the wall and drops his bag onto the floor by the entrance. "You wouldn’t have to have to be if you got your shit together. Got a job, applied for whichever course just to get your ass off my bed."

 _"Your_ bed? You weren’t that picky last night."

Hux considers slamming his head into the wall enough times to knock himself out, free him of the weird mess his life had become, at least for a few hours. He considers quietly getting rid of Ren and disposing of the body someplace no one would ever find it. It’s times like these that Hux is thankful for his impeccable self-control.

"That sounds like you’re using sex as a diversion tactic, Ren," he says instead. "You’re even more immature than I'd thought," he pauses when Ren’s face contorts into a scowl, " — you’re gonna throw a tantrum now, hm? Is that how this is going to end? You want me to take pity on you for another few days so you act like a spoiled brat? That’s not helping your case."

"You still haven’t kicked me out. I must be good for something."

Hux opens his mouth to spit out a crude reply and stops, trails off, his mind straying places he’d rather it didn’t: he keeps Ren around because it’s nice to come home to something other than a cold empty apartment, a glass of scotch and heaps of coursework. No matter how much of a disaster Ren is, it’s almost preferable to the deafening silence had Hux grown so used to on his own.

Hux sets his jaw and tries to force out a sharp glare to mask the resigned sigh that threatens to slip past his lips. He hopes Ren buys the act.

"I have another class in an hour," he says finally, reaching down to grab his bag. It’s a lie, but he needs to think — alone, preferably somewhere far, far away from the oversized baby occupying his bed. Away from campus and Phasma’s psychoanalytical preaching, her ceaselessly trying to convince him he might just be developing feelings for Ren. It’s not what he wants right now. "I’m gonna grab some lunch first," he adds, as an excuse to get the hell out of the apartment as soon as possible.

He’s halfway out the door when he stops to rummage in his bag, double checking he has at least one pack of cigarettes left to de-stress himself the moment he steps out onto the street. He hardly expects Ren to roll his lazy ass out of bed and sneak up behind him in the hall, but he does just that.

"You’re mad at me," Ren murmurs, and Hux resists the urge to roll his eyes all the way back into his skull.

"No kidding."

Ren wraps his arms around Hux’s waist from behind and Hux thinks that, _no_ , maybe Phasma was right — it’s not a thing people do without implying some sort of relationship. Ren leans his head on Hux’s shoulder and the feeling is calming, almost placating, and though Hux knows Ren is playing the pitiful kicked puppy, he falls for it anyway.

"I’ll have you know, I already have a job," Ren adds smugly.

"The odd favors you do for Snoke do not count as a job," Hux snaps before Ren has time to elaborate upon his shady side business.

"No — not _that_  — an actual job. I was gonna tell you but you came home with a stick up your ass so that didn’t go as planned."

Hux considers that. "I always have a stick up my ass — or so you say," he frowns and turns around to face Ren. "What kind of job?"

A flush of color rushes onto Ren’s cheeks. "You know that café on campus you hang around?"

The realization hits Hux like a speeding truck and his eyes double in size. " _No_ , tell me you didn’t."

Ren says nothing, which is as much of a confirmation as if he’d said yes outright. There’s a growing smirk slipping onto Ren’s lips and if Hux didn’t know better he’d suspect the whole thing was a practical joke. Except, it probably was.

"Phasma is never going to let me live this down," Hux whisper-yells, because he’s too mature to actually raise his voice, thank you very much. "She spends every breathing moment in that café and if she sees you behind the counter she’s going to start talking and then she’s going to find out — "

He catches a glimpse of the smirk-turned-blatant-grin on Ren’s face and trails off, coming to the conclusion that it was exactly when Ren was aiming for — Phasma getting both sides of the story, slipping in some well-meaning advice, eventually pressuring them both into admitting they were together, goddammit, rendering Ren’s stay at Hux’s apartment a more permanent solution due to their apparent relationship status. Well, maybe that wasn’t Ren’s aim, but Hux’s over analytical brain was most certainly piecing it together that way.

It’s all too much and Hux wants to be mad, but can’t find the strength.

"This is a nuisance," he says, sounding resigned, "it’s so inconvenient. It’s annoying how things like these get in the way of everything."

Ren knits his eyebrows together in confusion, but Hux steamrolls on regardless. ‘"I could try to ignore it all, but it always comes back around," he pauses, dropping his hands to the waistline of Ren’s jeans, tugging him in by the belt loops, flush against his chest, "like karma. Karma’s a bitch. I must be an awful person to get stuck with the likes of you."

With that being said and done, Ren completely loses the point of whatever Hux was trying to get across, though he can’t really bring himself to care with Hux’s cold fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt.

He asks anyway, voice low, "What is it that’s so annoying?"

Hux doesn’t look him in the eye when he replies, his lips on Ren’s neck, teeth dragging across skin just about painfully. "Sentiment," he mutters, "feelings, emotions, all that bullshit."

Ren doesn’t grace him with a reply, answers with naught more than a low hiss when Hux’s fingers dig roughly into his hips. He rolls into the touch but doesn’t give Hux the upper hand in the matter, opting for at least a minute more of teasing. "And here I was thinking you were running late to class," he muses, feigning disinterest as well as he humanly could with his jeans growing increasingly tight with every passing second.

 _"Go to hell_ ," Hux snaps back, but there’s no heat in his tone, instead far too much amusement, and then he’s not even trying to pretend anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by [this art of the dark side bbs](http://machomachi.tumblr.com/post/136615069669/drew-all-the-babs-in-earth-fashion) awhhh


End file.
